Painted
by nyxes
Summary: Leonardo asks Ezio for one final request. Oneshot.


The door swung open at his touch.

"Oddio!" Ezio exclaimed, his eyes widening as they took in the terrible sight before him. The damage was like a bull had rampaged in a china shop. Leonardo's studio lay in ruins. Paper was carelessly scattered on the floor like leaves on an autumn day, the sheets having been roughly torn from where they had hanged and leaving strips of paper to hang limply off the walls. Once proudly displaying beautiful art and incredible inventions, they were now good only for kindling.

Chairs, tables and shelves were flipped over from their usual positions, splinters of wood sticking out from their broken limbs. Paints, books, scrolls and almost everything else in the room were strewn around, adding to the chaos. Candles, some even lit, lay horizontally on the ground, gently rocking as the winds from outside hit them, sending their tiny tongues of flame dancing. It was either sheer luck or divine intervention that prevented the studio from catching on fire and burning down. Ezio cared for none of these details. The only focus in his mind was the battered body lying near where the desk usually sat.

"Leonardo!" the Assassin gasped, rushing over and kneeling down next to him.

"Ezio," said Leonardo weakly, offering him a small smile, "I am so glad you are here." He was in bad shape. Although it was dark and hard to see, Ezio could notice the purple and red blotching of fresh bruises covering much of his face. His lip was split and his nose was bloody, dribbling blood all down his chin and smearing it all over his face. His clothing and hair were caked with the liquid; his blond locks were now a sinister, coppery red. Gorges and canyons ran through his flesh. They brought a vivid red up to the surface and stood out against his fair skin and dull bruises. Most cuts looked shallow and merely superficial though a particularly vicious looking wound welling with blood, striking though his temple and snaking down to his jaw, filled the Assassin with a rage. He wanted to find those responsible and give them the same treatment sixfold.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, the words shaking with a burning anger. He wanted to make them pay.

"Thieves. Do not worry yourself with them. They took nothing of value and would be long gone by now," said Leonardo, whimpering as a spasm of pain shot through his body.

Ezio felt foolish. His friend needed help now. Revenge didn't bring his family back; it won't heal his oldest friend. "I'll go fetch a docto-"

"No!" shouted Leonardo, his bloody hand shooting out and grabbing Ezio's before he could leave.  
>"Don't leave me," he begged.<p>

"Leonardo, you need help."

"Please, stay with me."

Leonardo's puppy eyes worked their magic and Ezio stayed, albeit begrudgingly. His friend needed a doctor yet Leonardo foolishly won't let him fetch one. Where the heck was that useless apprentice of his, anyway? Salai was probably getting drunk and gambling his money away as his master's life slowly faded away. It made Ezio sick. Leonardo's hand felt soft in his calloused grip. It was strangely comforting.

"Ezio," Leonardo suddenly said. His voice was unnaturally frail and sounded as if he was made of glass. "Just in case if I don't make it, can... can you please do me one favour?"

The Assassin didn't want to think about the worst happening. He had seen and delivered death plenty times before. Only yesterday one of his apprentices had succumbed to her wounds. Yes, he had grieved but if Leonardo passed it would be a thousand times worse. He was like a rock in his life. He had been there since the beginning of his journey as an Assassin and he wanted him to be with him until the end, whenever that may be.

"Whatever you want," Ezio replied, leaning closer to hear his request better. He could feel the heat of Leonardo's breath buffeting his skin.

The artist blushed. "Kiss me," he said.

Ezio blinked. There was no mistaking what Leonardo had said but something at the back of his head told him he must have heard wrong. "Pardon?"

Leonardo diverted his eyes. His cheeks took on a deeper red that had nothing to do with his injuries. "Kiss me," he repeated.

Ezio, after a moment of hesitation, leaned in to fulfil his friend's strange request. Why did Leonardo want me to kiss him? He aimed to plant a quick peck on the cheek when Leonardo suddenly turned his head and captured the Assassin's lips with his own. Ezio, understandably surprised, was too stunned by the seemingly random movement to think about pulling back. What shocked him more was that he actually enjoyed the sensation of Leonardo's tongue exploring his mouth.

They remained like that for who knows long, hungry for more, tongues entwined. A hand crept up Ezio's back, pulling at the ribbon tying his hair back and settling among the chestnut locks. They only pulled apart when the scratching of graphite on paper brought them back to reality. With eyes like deer caught in headlights, two blushing heads turned to stare at Salai, who was unashamedly sketching them both.

"You look so cute together," Salai explained with a nonchalant shrug. His attention turned to his master. "Your painted wounds look so realistic."

Ezio turned his head back at the painter. "Painted wounds?"


End file.
